


Gifts

by relic_amaranth



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Other, Romance, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 08:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: You and Steve have had a couple of Christmases together that were both ‘first’ in their own right. Now that it’s your third one, you expect a routine to form. Steve has a way of upending your expectations.





	Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Bows
> 
> A/N: Some sugar sweet fluff and ultimate sappiness? Yep yep yep.

 

It’s your third Christmas with Steve.

The first year you celebrated together was when the relationship was still fairly new. Steve had nowhere to go and neither did you, so you both stumbled through (and into) each others’ traditions. It was an overall positive experience; so much so that even the awkward moments became fond memories.

Last year was your second Christmas together, but your first one while living together, and it came with its own challenges as you both suffered through holiday stress in a shared space. Again, it turned out to be a good experience in the end.

This year, you think you’ve got a handle on it. You’re already feeling much more relaxed, sitting on the couch with a hot drink in hand. Which _was_ steaming when Steve went to get the decorations, _insisting_ that it would only take a second. In fact…

“How many seconds was it going to be again?” you call out, unsure of where exactly he got to.

“Ha. Ha.” Steve drops the boxes down next to you. “I found them.”

“Where?”

He doesn’t look at you. You grin. “Steve…”

He sighs like the drama queen he is and aims a glare (and tiny pout) at you. “Guest room closet.”

“ _HAH_!” You put your drink down and pump your fist. “I _told_ you!”

“Well I’m glad you’re being modest about it,” Steve grumbles, but he can’t hide the smile pulling at his lips.

“Modest,” you scoff. “If you had just– _Steve_!”

He picks you up off the floor and turns hard enough to make you feel almost weightless, before he plops you on your feet. You swear and shake your fist, to his (very) loud amusement.

“Let’s decorate,” he says, still chuckling as he starts lifting things out of the first box.

Decorating takes…a long time. It’s hard to go fast when you’re throwing every soft thing you can find at Steve. (And he doesn’t just take it, either). Also there’s the mistletoe you use as an excuse to kiss him and–

Yeah; decorating takes a while.

By the end of the day though the apartment is festive and you’re tired enough to be a little punchy. You and Steve are putting away containers and boxes and the little odds and ends that had nowhere to go. You find a huge bow and consider it for a moment before you get a _genius_ idea. You balance the bow on top of your head. “Hey– hey, Steve.” You wait for him to turn around, and when he does you jab a thumb towards yourself. “I’m cheap, so you get _me_ for Christmas.”

It’s a dumb joke (of course you have something for him for Christmas; he’ll probably be mad at how _much_ you have for him) but he smiles like he just got exactly what he always wanted and he pulls you in to give you a kiss. “What are you talking about? That’s the best gift ever,” he says and kisses you again. After trading a few more of those you both go back to your respective areas and finish cleaning up.

Later that night, the main lights are off so you both can enjoy the multicolored sparkling of the tree and gently glowing fireplace. Some classic Christmas songs play low in the background and you and Steve gently sway together, long lost of any song-related rhythm and now only in tune with each other. Your drinks sit abandoned on the coffee table and you allow them a thought for only as long as you glance at them, before you rest your head against Steve’s chest and allow your eyes to shut.

After a few moments, he says your name softly. “Hm?” you ask.

“Did you mean it? That you’d give yourself to me for Christmas?”

“Of course.” You open your eyes and lift your head, a joke about ‘unwrapping’ on the tip of your tongue, when you get a good look at Steve and stop. He’s very serious, and you’re not sure why.

He smiles at you. “Oh good,” he says, too mildly for how intently he’s looking at you. He pulls back and lowers. To one knee. “That will make this less awkward then.”

You don’t dare move a muscle, too afraid of anything breaking you out of this moment. He pulls out a box and the crack it makes when it opens is almost as loud as a lightning strike. It’s too dark to get a good look but the ring shines like one more light. Steve says your name and then licks his lips and swallows. It’s a little grounding, actually, to see him be nervous too. “Would you spend every Christmas, every holiday, every _day_ , with me, for the rest of our lives?”

You try to speak but nothing comes out. You nod rapidly and when he’s sliding the ring onto your finger– perfect, how is it so _perfect_ – you finally manage to breathe out a “ _yes_.”

He wraps you up in his arms and you respond by clinging to him like he’s the only stable object in a hurricane. Once you’re– well, not kissed-out, but at least sated, you laugh. “Which holidays do you want to spend with me?” you tease and press your forehead to his.

Steve tightens his arms around your waist. “Hm…Christmas, of course…Thanksgiving, Halloween…”

“Do the smaller ones count? What about President’s Day?”

“Absolutely; President’s Day, Martin Luther King Jr. Day, Labor Day…” He smiles even more. “Arbor Day, Groundhog Day…National Donut Day, National Cat Day– oh; your birthday.”

“I was with you for cats, but my birthday isn’t a holiday,” you say.

“It is to me,” Steve says and then kisses you sweetly. “Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” you whisper. It’s another ‘first’– and you’re looking forward to all the other unexpected firsts that are yet to come.


End file.
